LXX.
Alexandria, Egypt, Nov. 24, 1851.
I have felt more like writing you since I left Bombay, where I confidently expected advices from friends, which I have been deprived of for some months; and having heard indirectly, without particulars, of the death of a beloved sister, I was anxious to arrive at this place, where I am put in possession of that which is so highly valued by the traveller—letters from home. From Bombay I embarked with the Achilles down the Indian Ocean to Aden, some one thousand six hundred and forty miles, situated near the entrance of the Straits of Babelmandel, and recognised in her an old acquaintance, having made a passage by her from Glasgow to Liverpool, some years since.
Aden is the coal depot of the Peninsular and Oriental Company’s line of steamers, and here we were obliged to wait during three days for the arrival of the steamer Erin, which replaced the Precursor, that had been caught in a violent hurricane and disabled, at the mouth of the river, below Calcutta. The Erin is the steamer that sunk the Pasha, by collision off the coast of Malabar, some time ago. I feel thankful in having escaped typhoons, hurricanes, and accidents, of which many have occurred while I have been in the East, and hope to be favored for the future in my peregrinations, until I once more return to my friends and native land. Aden is a strongly fortified place, called the “Gibraltar of the East.” It was constructed by the East India Company, in order to resist the encroachments of the Arabs, and is situated in a desert country, without a sign of vegetation, a portion of it being in an extinct volcano. It is one of the most disagreeable spots in the world for a long sojourn, with no attractions aside from the camp, and all necessaries come from abroad when the Arabs do not choose to supply them. The heat at times has been almost insupportable; the Red Sea is considered the Tophet of the East by travellers. Not unfrequently in summer, passengers become perfectly exhausted, and some sudden deaths occur. The shores in general are barren and arid, with high volcanic mountains at intervals, with exceptions, of course, as we sighted Mocha, which is forty miles above the entrance of the Straits, and is celebrated for its choice coffee. We passed the usual landing-place for Mahometans proceeding to Mecca. We had about forty passengers from Bombay, and northern India, mostly officers on leave, or retired pensioners; among the number were several ladies, and twelve children, going home to be educated, so we were not at a loss for juvenile music. We made the passage up the Red Sea in five days and a half, and found, as we advanced towards Suez, that the weather became cooler.
Mount Sinai and the localities designated as the spots where Moses and the Israelitish army crossed, were pointed out and commented upon. As we approached Suez the sea narrows, and a place some thirty miles below, where the water is thirty fathoms, or one hundred and eighty feet in depth, is said by the Arabs to be that where Moses crossed. It is twenty miles wide, and the rise and fall of tide is very small; so that the most sceptical must allow the crossing to be quite as miraculous as the sustaining of vast bodies of people in these arid plains and mountains for a long sojourn. The arrangements are now very perfect in crossing the isthmus, and it scarcely merits the name of desert in comparison with the fifteen days’ journey across the Arabian sands to Palestine, during my former travels in the East.
The Pasha deserves great credit for his transit accommodations. At Suez, a dirty village upon a sandy plain, is a large stone hotel, and in approaching the town a small steamer meets and conducts you to the wharf, where camels in large numbers are ready to convey luggage and cargo across to Cairo, a distance of eighty-five miles. They are started off, and passing us, we are sent in vans with two high wheels, and a double shaft for two horses or mules, with a pair of leaders. These vans contain six persons and their luggages, and are changed every five miles. There are four places for supplies on the desert, where most articles can be obtained desirable for comfort, including couches to repose upon during the halt. I found them so much improved since I was last in Egypt, that I was agreeably disappointed. The road is beaten by constant travel, except that there is heavy sand in some places. The greatest objections are the rays of the sun, and the fiery sand, which affect the eyes; but it is of short continuance, as we cross in sixteen hours. The supply of water, and, indeed, every trifling article, must be carried on the backs of camels. The transit across the isthmus and down the Nile from Grand Cairo to the canal at Atfeh to Alexandria, is in the Pasha’s name; and arrangements are being made for the construction of a railway between the first and last named cities.
At Grand Cairo I found that great changes had taken place since I last visited it, not only in the hotels, but in the general appearance of the city. The most beautiful edifice, or monument, is the new alabaster mosque, with its nobly gilded domes and interior decorations, its lofty minaret towering above the citadel, and inclosing a catafalque in one corner, with the remains of Mehemet Ali, who had massacred the Mamelukes at a spot hard by, one only escaping by a fearful leap, killing his horse under him. I once described to you my visit to, and reception by, this extraordinary man, whose remains I am now gazing upon, while a thousand reflections cross my mind. Turning my eyes from the spot, there stood in the distance the almost imperishable pyramids, and the Nile, flowing without change, bathing the land of Goshen as in days gone by. The bazaars were filled as usual with an immense multitude of men, veiled women, and children, and donkeys, and camels. The streets being very narrow, our carriage was preceded by a runner, cracking his heavy whip to clear the passages. I find small, but not uncomfortable steamers now coming from Cairo to Atfeh, the termination of the Mahmoud canal, making with the current some twelve miles per hour; also barges for passengers, towed by small steamers on the canal, with very fair living accommodations. Alexandria has become more like a European city; the suburbs near the banks of the canal are occupied with the residences of foreigners, and the vicinity of the Obelisk, or Cleopatra’s needle, and Pompey’s pillar, looks less deserted than formerly.